


Late Night

by savaged



Series: TF2 Seasons Prompts [3]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Drunken Kissing, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Sudden Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savaged/pseuds/savaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since they don't have a safe place to stay during a respawn-less night, they choose Sniper's van.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night

 

Sick, sick, sick. He felt the adrenaline raise through his chest and get to his head, making his mind a boiler, the corners of his blurred vision reddened.

"ADVERT! Our control point is being captured!"

'Madafucka's gonna get it so damn good' he though to himself. He jumped from the roof top onto the BLU control point stomping the floor, surprising the lonely Pyro camping there, and shot aimlessly and almost careless until the poor thing was on the ground mumbling things Scout wouldn't understand, shrieking "mpph, mph!" until the flamethrower fell to a side and it died. Scout smiled widely, loosening up.

'It.' The bostonian usually fantasized about ripping the gas mask off of its face. But what if something horrible was waiting behind? He had been having nightmares of himself being followed through the desert by the gas mask alone, he didn't want more psycho trauma with it. Although, he also was all alone and it wasn't like he'd miss the chance to do it, and he wouldn't see the RED Pyro until next day when the respawn machine's wheels started to turn again returning everyone that had died, bringing them back to life.

Scout bit at his bottom lip furrowing his brow. His fingers pinched the elastics of the mask and pulled, just as the sharp edge of a knife pressed against the skin of his back.

"Did you forget about me, hon?" The feeling of the edge slicing his skin sent shivers down Scout's spine. "Ta mère would be so unproud of you for stealing a man's honor like zat," Spy jerked his chin to the action taking place under them. Scout released the elastics of Pyro's mask, cursing behind his gritted teeth, below his breath. Unconscious of his blush he huffed, turning around a little enough to spit the words at the murderer's face.

"Does ma' know you backstab her son in yer free time!?"

Spy slowly pushed his dagger in the space where the knobs of his vertebral column met and Scout shrieked like a little girl being punished. Smell of cigarette smoke mingled with the low, almost seductive voice speaking into his ear.

"C'est bien, Scout." Spy cleared his throat, "zee enemy's zee enemy. Nothing personnel about thees."

Blood drops slid out staining the wrinkled BLU shirt at which Spy had a grip. The corners of Scout's eyes began to blur and get dark as he gave up on his weapon and waited for the final thrust, somewhat a lingering threat he hated to be accepting.

Waking up the next morning after a terrible death and a whole night of nothingness was awful, nothing he could have ever imagined. You learned to be fearful of sudden, respawn-less death. Restless, constant throbbing and pangs could be remembered like a bad dream, although, as it happened, it was real. There would be no medic healing him. Only screaming. Scout yelled but wasn't sure it was his own voice anymore.

"First time backstabbing my class, huh!?" anger filled his mouth. "Now, THAT's the only way you'll catch me, you sonnuva bitch, bastard! You wait 'til ma hears 'bout this!" Scout chuckled loud, hysterically; "ye'r SO freaking dead, Spy. You're SO. FREAKING.-" 

Until Scout saw it, a blue thin ray of light had been moving slowly to stop between Spy's eyebrows leaving a shimmering dot there, to become a clean and quick headshot. Scout winced. The knife was pulled back just as the tall body behind him fell backwards. Silence sliced the ambient after the buzz of the deadly bullet, leaving Scout with a sting that hurt like hell in his back and great dizziness, left alone the trembling in his arms.

"I could do tha' all day, y'know."

Slow steps of heavy boots against gravel. Rustles of the Sniper's weapon getting on the back of his vest, a disapproving look on his face glaring down at the Spy. He stood there, reaching out a free hand that Scout took to stand up being rudely dodged. Instead, Sniper's hand went to the runner's shoulder to turn him around so he could face his back.

The blood. That bastard had left him seriously wounded if not in the death row already, and Scout doubted that Sniper would be the most indicated guy to heal anyone. 

The Medic was away somewhere with Soldier after a RED Demoman set some sticky bombs around the first Capture Point to kill the Heavy Weapons Guy. Clever. And monstrous, in some way too, for the four-eyed german. Scout had seen him repress a whine when it happened. Such was the mourn of the Sudden Death captures. 

The young Scout concurred he wasn't letting Sniper alone in this one; he tried to turn, and when he did, Sniper stopped him putting a hand on his neck.

"Don't move, love."

A cap popped and seconds later a warm, big hand was sweeping up his shirt running through his spine. A texture like velvet, skin roughened by years of being outdoors in the deserts and lone lands of Australia. It was a weird sensation, not a bit unpleasant except for the part when wet fingers started to spread a slick substance in the limits of the torn skin. It smelled like cat piss, and burnt ten times worse than if it had been done with a lit up cigarette. Scout shuddered at the sudden realization that _it was_ , in fact, urine, and turned around to see Sniper standing still, focused and holding a jar with yellow stuff in it.

"Yo, what THE FUCK do ya think ye'r doing, man!? Is that freaking urine!?"

"Stay still" Sniper dunked his fingers again getting Scout to wince and back off.

"If you think ya gonna rub piss on me you're dead, man. Nah, you can't be possibly freaking serious 'bout this" Scout reached the wound and touched it, then sniffed his fingers. The strong scent revolted whatever amounts of Bonk were in his stomach. He bent over, faking a gag and went back menacing the Sniper with his bat, cleaning his fingers with his shirt. "I dunno if you're used to this back in aussie-land or whatever the fuck you call it, don't you EVER put fucking piss on me EVER again, ' _mate'_ , or you're _dead_."

Sniper stopped in his duty, drops of his own yellow thing sliding through long fingers, and smirked. The glasses shined with the sun falling behind the horizon, a curtain of dust seen floating upon the land. Waves of heat derived from the iron sheets -roof tops of shelters, far from the base and the empty respawn rooms.

He found himself kind of tired. Hot, certainly and mostly hot, but that's what the desert had for them. It threw terrible thunders, sand storms, dry landscapes and a boiling breeze that made him shiver, made him beg to stop himself from being so damn thirsty. Not a fucking drop of water around. And then there was this fucker in front of him, who had access of all the beer he could get from the base, whose life had saved, who drank Bonk in front of him, bitched about getting his torn skin sealed. He had even insulted his nation, to top it. Sniper would have left him right there dying on his own, calling for the now dead Medic and melting under the desert heat if it wasn't because the douchebag was gonna get killed by the enemy.

As a teammate, Sniper sucked. He sucked bad, and failed even at lending a hand -covered in piss, for the record,- so he dried it up in his vest and looked over at Scout swaying his baseball bat around, jutting his eyebrows in an effort to ignore the pain. He was raising his chest like the eager, big, tough man he wasn't. He peered around, searching for signs of life and poked the annoyed bushman in the chest. "We're the only ones left 'ere. Not a surprise for me, but you, uh... You're quite the deal, man. Where you stayin' tonite, huh? There's plenty o' booze back in the base, that demo's not showing up 'til tomorrow. Y'know what I mean" Scout lowered his gaze, rubbing and scratching the messed up area in his lower back. "We ain't ice cream sandwiches, tho. I should be the one to eat them, not that fat ass Heavy, dude doesn't know when to stop. I'm showing him WHO's boss now! He'll be so freaking pissed to find me alive tomorrow morning, him and his stupid Medic. They all suck."

"Spoiled bloody idiot." Sniper pointed at the dead Spy, then Pyro. Flies were starting to gather above the first corpse, a loud buzz in both of the men's ears. "People like him could be around the base. I'm not risking booze for safety, lad."

"Right," Scout chuckled, brushing it off. He signaled the horizon with a thumb, farther than the control points past the high wooden cabinets of BLU. "Can we go somewhere, bushman? I mean, not the van. Definitely not the van."

"We're goin' to the van, then."

 

-

 

11 pm.

Sniper closed the door shut behind him and latches it. It smelled like alcohol and closed spaces with a bit of lavender car deodorant and barley. The curtains were kind of pretty new, he told to himself as he lied on the couch putting his sneakers upon the dinner table.

"We were in the middle of a freaking _chaos_ " Scout mouthed getting rid of his cap and earpiece. "I'm so glad we made it 'til here, I would be so freaking pissed if not."

Sniper lay his weapon somewhere in the Kitchen's counter and took off the hat, revealing a mess of greasy hair. He also unbuttoned his vest and wriggled taking it off, throwing it on the couch to a side of the Scout, not interested in losing time or engaging in a conversation. The kid picked at the vest and winced. "Ew."

"'Ew' wot?"

"It's all slick with sweat, man." 

Sniper shrugged. "I'm takin' a shower outside. Wanna come?"

"Outside? Like, _out_ of the van?"

Sniper unbuckled his belt and threw it to the ground, peeling off his pants and kicking his shoes. He had scars around the shoulders and some on his arms, as well, most of them already healed. His legs were hairy and not that thick, but muscles made him plump in the thighs, and Scout caught himself staring for too long at the blue striped boxers and the line of dark hairs that went past the scarred belly he blinked and snapped out with a sharp sigh.

"Bring the hose, will you?"

"Yeah, man. Sorry." 

"Sorry for wot?" the old man kicked the door open. "Bring the hose, mate. It's getting late."

The Sniper seemed to have a strongly desire for entering the van as fast as possible, after squeezing the hose hard to get water coming out faster. He connected it to the shower's tap, so it was warm, and Scout thanked the gods for the hot stream running through his back cleaning the piss and his wound.

"Doctor will see ye tomorrow" Sniper emphasized putting a hand on Scout's lower back. "You got good resistance."

"'Course I do, _grandpa_."

Sniper smacked one of his shoulders in response. "I can take more hours than you in anything."

"Is that a dare?"

"'t was an affirmation. You can't even take one stab from your stepfather without whining loik a little wuss."

"Mind your stuff, old man."

"This old man" Sniper lowered the position of the hose a few notches, "can headshot your stepfather, and" he wetted Scout's ass, "fuck you up."

"Fuck off," Scout smiled turning around. "I got enough with your piss. Aye."

"Wot?"

"Sorry for earlier." Scout cupped his hands under the stream of water, slightly shivering because of the mild frozen breeze that blew. "I really appreciate these kind of things, y'know." He stared up at Sniper and found lonely eyes gazing back. He looked away first.

"We..." Sniper directed the stream at his feet. Hair was sticking to his scalp, wet, and the soap had slipped somewhere not near them, and anyways it would be soaked in mud. "We should get inside, wanka." 

"After you."

 

-

 

Sniper brought a towel and made coffee while Scout waited outside. He had a hidden waffle maker that Scout discovered in a cabinet, and an old radio set in the night table of a small squared bedroom.

"You sleep 'ere?"

"Yeah. Sometimes on the couch."

"It doesn't look that bad." Blue covers were tucked under the mattress, and a long grey pillow, which had sometime been white, lied against the wall. Up, a large window covered by mustard colored curtains appeared.

It smelled like him everywhere. Scent of powder and Old Spice, mingling with a strong manly fragrance -the one that was in Sniper's clothes. Scout wondered where did he wash them. Would it be in the back of the van? He went back to lurk at the odd place, dunk in the silence of evening and the shadows of dusk.

Sniper followed him with hungry eyes. The back of the Scout was almost flawless if he hadn't had sunburns around his neck and arms, so young and feckless about his actions, so damn cocky and lively... He shouldn't go around his van in briefs, for instance. Wandering like a lost child.

And would he be safe in the hands of a murderer, anyway? Scout looked for a hidden exit in case things got bad. Not to be paranoid, but out in the woods anything can be a werewolf. Right now, for example, one was smirking when he turned his back.

"Are you going to bed, luv? Are you alroight now that we're safe 'ere?"

"Nope." Scout knocked the glass of a little window across the small, squared shower cabin of Sniper's bathroom and clicked his tongue when he couldn't open it.

"Wot are you doin'? D'you want to find my stash?" 

"You have any booze? What stash?"

"None" Sniper pinched his brow, nonchalant. "C'mon, luv, I'm tired. There are no monsters 'ere, alroight? Scoot, c'mon" Sniper looked at him, a white simple shirt and boxers conforming his sleeping suit. "Alright. There's mint flavored liquor in a corner of the fridge."

"You're so full of secrets" Scout painted a cheerful smile and scrambled until he found the green bottle. Sniper turned off the light of the bathroom in his way back and cleaned the sofa, as Scout gulped down half of the alcoholic contents. When he finished he had a blush sprayed across his cheeks, making him look like a fifteen year old in a high school party. "Where we sleepin'?" he inquired, passing the bottle to Sniper's hands.

"'Ere" the man pointed at the couch. "The bedroom has no windows. It can get hot."

"It will get hot anywhere, anyways" Scout threw himself onto Sniper. Both lost balance and ended on top of the couch, Sniper struggling to get the bottle stable before it poured as Scout chuckled loudly into his ear. "We're alive, man." Sniper's breathing froze in place. Scout's lips hovered over his, extremely close. "We made it so far to your lair. I wonder what's here to explore" Scout grinned cocky running a hand through the man's abdomen, feeling the muscles tense, getting a hand under his boxers. "C'mon, do you even got game still?"

"Scout, n- Fuckin _' aye_ " Sniper huffed with gritted teeth into Scout's lips, feeling how a young hand wrapped around and pumped him tightly. "Fuck, Scout."

"Oh, y-you like that?" Scout chuckled like a kid, a _drunk_  one. "I can do much more than this" he fell completely on top of Sniper making their lips collide and his whole body relaxed, his hand starting to stay still.

It wasn't that late when Sniper noticed the soft sighs of Scout's sleep on his beating chest, and a little bit of drool stain his shirt once he decided to wrap his arms around the boy and lay him down to a side of the couch.

They slept like this until the morning, only to be awaken by the sun and red's Soldier rough knocks on the door of the van.

 


End file.
